


The green sweater

by SarahDeVicomte



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Post-Episode: s07e17 All Things, all things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-17 23:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahDeVicomte/pseuds/SarahDeVicomte
Summary: My take on what happened after All things.___I originally posted this year ago in another work but wanted to change the work in which this story belongs). All Things is not a chapter, it’s a whole work.It’s still a work in progress..."I looked deeply into his eyes and nothing had changed, we were the same people becoming, at that precise moment, the same people together, in bed."——You may want to listen to The Sky is Broken





	The green sweater

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction takes place after the end of the episode all things of season 7. Episode that was written and directed by Gillian Anderson. This episode leads to what I think may have been Mulder and Scully first sexual encounter (though I do believe in other theories ;) )
> 
> While reading the following story (that will come in few parts, you may want to listen to the soundtrack of that episode: 
> 
> The Sky Is Broken by Moby)
> 
>  
> 
> (explicit content at some point but not in this first chapter)
> 
> * corrections by Peacenik0 ( thank you so much) and you know how much I love your work. Thanks to you, my English syntax has improved. 
> 
>  
> 
> I am mostly interested in inner thoughts. I’m beginning to fill in the blanks from Scully’s perspective and what I think she is thinking.
> 
> —  
> English is not my native language but I do try to find the best vocabulary in my reach or out of my reach. I mention people who correct in the notes of each story, if there is one.
> 
> —  
> I am a shipper but not interested in gendered ways of thinking, or conventional romance.

———  
———  
———

“Time passes in moments. Moments, which rushing past, define the path of a life, just as surely as they lead towards its end. How rarely do we stop to examine that path? To see the reason why all things happen. To consider whether the path we take in life is our own making, or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed. But what if we could stop? Pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes. Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life, and seeing those choices choose another path?”

As I started to realize I had fallen asleep on the couch I remembered the last words I heard from Mulder « that says a lot a lot a lot ».  
This weekend had seen the time expand, the kind of epiphany that I haven’t had in a long time. Something had ended, and something had begun. Words hung in my mind and were passing through. I was remembering what it was that I had said in that moment. Perhaps letting him know that all the choices I had made were the ones that led me here.

It wasn’t only about him, it was mostly about finding myself again, who I was now. Seeing Daniel made me realize that I wasn’t the same person as ten years ago. I didn’t know how I felt. There was a kind of sadness perhaps, but no regret or grief over who I had been. All the choices I had made (that most men in my life were against), were my choices. Had I drifted somewhere ? Or had my unconsciousness made me choose what I chose ? I decided that it was time for me to be finally at peace with my choices regardless of what people had been thinking. Of course the path I had chosen had led me to Mulder tonight, and before today, I hadn’t known what to do about it.

Mulder had surprised me, being aware that for once he might not have been right. He surely knew how to piss me off sometimes. Though I knew he clung to what he believed so blindly, that I should never take it personally.

But tonight for once it was about me. The choices that I had made in my life had led me here, to this couch, with Mulder half sleeping in his bedroom. Actually I didn’t know since I hadn’t got up yet, perhaps he was reading, or just thinking.

I thought.  
And I felt at peace.  
Peace.

I didn’t have many questions left wandering through my mind. They had been there long enough, almost hovering over us, waiting for us to do something about it.

Mulder was painfully socially awkward, and people knew about it. As for me, I had forced myself to act like everyone else in order to fit in, though I knew it was only an act I had been putting on. Mulder never even faked social conventions.

Even his former love relationships were weird in a way.  
I heard a noise. Mulder was awake. I suddenly froze because I knew I had to act. I wasn’t afraid of him rejecting me.I wasn’t afraid that it wouldn’t be natural. I just knew it was the right time.  
I had known how he felt for a while now for he had always been more transparent than I was. More emotional.

I thought.  
Perhaps he’d be surprised.  
I slowly got up of the couch, making sure I wasn’t making any noise. The room was green from the reflection of the fish tank, reflection of the color of the sweater I was wearing that day.

Green.  
Does that even mean anything ?  
Green.  
Mulder.  
Bedroom.

As I went towards his bedroom door, I could only feel the pinch of excitement, that thing you feel that makes your stomach ache just before seeing a person you could not wait to see.  
Mulder. I entered his bedroom and saw him sitting on his bed, legs stretched out, a book on his lap, (half reading, half sleeping). I actually couldn’t know. I went towards him, not talking, not thinking.

I felt.  
Peace.  
I heard.  
Water dripping.

The pace of time comes in various forms.  
It felt natural to be here, even more, it felt familiar.

I sat on the side of his bed, my hips beside his legs, I took the book he was reading and put it on the nightstand.

I whispered: « Mulder ».  
Twice.  
He opened his eyes, seemed not surprised though very confused.  
-I thought you were sleeping  
\- I was, but now I’m not.  
\- hm  
I guessed he didn’t know what to say.  
So I said nothing.

He looked at me with his dark eyes, his mouth trying to say something. He looked boyish.

I put my hand along his thigh; he was still wearing his jeans and as I started to go further along his thigh, I looked at him and wanted to ask.  
He didn’t leave me the time to ask as he put his hand on top of mine, slowly squeezing it, like he did every time. To signify that it meant something and perhaps more than words. I leaned towards him and put my right hand on his cheek, my palm along his jaw. I thought about all the other times that my hand had landed here, on his jaw, finding its place. I never had thought that touching him like this could actually be so easy.

It was easy.

Almost like if we had always been doing this, though I could feel the thrill of the novelty. His eyes opened more and started to express something clearer, more intense.  
His face losing that warm sleepy look. Mulder always had that look. As if he had been somewhere else, as if he had known something for so long but was desperate in sharing it.  
His eyes. It scared me sometimes. One end of one world, so dark.  
Though, he had been pretty happy these last few weeks. Our relationship was getting better, perhaps, becoming more mature.

I was pretty happy too. The entire weekend I had been puzzled, questioning my path, but finally my path had led me here.  
I leaned towards him and wondered for a second why I was paying more attention to my thoughts when Mulder was right here. The bright shade of the blinds of his windows tracing lines across his face, the colors of the room that seemed to expand such like time, the storm outside contrasting what I felt inside.

And then, that thrill.  
The pace of my heart, faster than the water dripping in his bathroom.  
Time passes in moments.  
___

I kissed his lips, was it slow or fast enough ? I didn’t care. He parted his lips allowing me in. Nothing was said and nothing needed to be said at that moment. A subtle chill went through my spine, my breasts and my neck.

A closure.  
A beginning.

Words.  
No words.  
About who we were for each other.  
Mulder and I were beyond anything commonly known.  
The thought of it pleased me.

My thumb felt the humidity of his mouth, watery now from our kiss. I felt our tongues banging in a fast motion. The time that had expanded seemed to have caught up. It was moving fast, though slow enough for me to really feel everything.

I deepened my thumb in his mouth. Felt his tongue. Shivers went through both my thumb and my index as I started to pull my mouth from his, breathing each other’s air. We had been sharing the same oxygen for the past seven years, sharing the same struggle.  
I remembered thinking so many times, how the truth made no sense without justice.

 

Was it justice working here ?  
The final turning point of what was supposed to happen, of what we had chosen.

I put my lips back into his and started to slightly bite the bottom one. My thumb had gone out, caressing his fine upper lip. I could trace a line on his lip bow with eyes closed and I could feel his body thinking, becoming more tense under my breathing, under my touch.

I enjoyed it.

I had lost sense of time when my left hand had passed his crotch, up, underneath the black shirt he was wearing. My fingers had touched his skin before but never under the warmth of a piece of clothing. I could feel a slight tinge of perspiration, the humidity of him being alive.  
The humidity.  
Mulder didn’t talk. I could only hear his breathing, some discreet moaning he was trying to cover up, and I didn’t know why. Perhaps he thought that the shivers running over his skin expressed enough.  
Or perhaps. It didn’t.  
“ hmm”

This moaning sounded like a word to me.  
I could hear him talking to me. « Hm... »  
“Mulder” I whispered in his ear, in the tone he had always heard me say his name.  
I always said his name as if it was the last time I would ever say it. A sense of the end of the world.

I wanted to take his shirt off- I could have gone so much faster. The pace of that evening had been languid and slow.  
But I wanted to enjoy every moment of what I was we were about to share.  
I wanted to feel the ache,  
and the chill.  
The frustration perhaps suspended,  
the feel of his skin under the touch of my hands.

I looked deeply into his eyes and nothing had changed, we were the same people becoming, at that precise moment, the same people together, in bed.

His breathing changed, its pace was faster, mirroring mine. It was as if he could feel me, without even touching me yet.  
I still had my left hand under his shirt, my right hand went down, stumbling upon his - I thought - difficult jeans zipper. How was I going to do this with one hand, the logistics had escaped me, had I forgotten it? I felt impatient, anxious until I finally I unzipped him.  
I slid my hand under his jeans, not leaving his eyes from my sight, his mouth from mine.  
The breathing.  
Had I forgot what it was like to breathe?  
Dripping.  
Reminding me of time passing.

 

Mulder caught my hand for a suspended moment before going further. A moment of great awareness.

How I managed to take his jeans off remained a mystery to me. Perhaps for the sake of writing a good story without having to tell the details.


End file.
